Reflection
by ThomE.Gemcity-06
Summary: Takes place after BLOOD. After a suspect tries to kill Tim, Gibbs put him in Protective Custody; forgetting Charlie MOC in the process. Now the killer's after him and it's up to Gibbs to protect Tim's brother.


**A/N: So, this fic takes place after "BLOOD", but is necessarily considered a sequel. I do not own NCIS nor any of the characters that you may recognize from the show, but I do have ownership over Charlie McGee. The fallowing fic may contain violence, light swearing and ultimately, death—You have been warned; enjoy!**

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><p><strong>REFLECTION<br>****[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

"Boss—" Tim tried to protest; he knew that it was useless, and him wiping blood from his brow with his sleeve before it dripped into his eyes as he said it, didn't make his argument strong.

Gibbs didn't have to say anything, because his eyes said it all.

The autopsy table was cold on his butt and thighs, and Tim winced as Ducky batted his hand away and swiped at the cut on his forehead. He felt the sting of disinfectant before Ducky closed it with butterfly strips. He cut away Tim's bloody shirt to reveal more cuts, scrapes, blood and bruises. With the help of Gibbs, he and Ducky relocated Tim's dislocated shoulder—who had nearly bit his tongue and the sudden pain, not entirely prepared.

Tim was left panting as Ducking cleaned up the other cuts and scrapes, and then stitched the bullet graze on his ribs.

"Boss—" Tim tried again after Ducky forced him to swallow a few pills.

"Did you not hear me the first time, McGee?" Gibbs raised a silver brow. "I'm putting you in Protective Custody until we get this bastard."

"But I can help!" Tim protested despite the glare Gibbs was giving him.

"This is the second time that this guy has tried to kill you, Tim; so I'm not letting him anywhere near you again." Gibbs said. "Either this is going to end with him in jail, or a bullet through the skull."

Tim raised his brows as that, and so did Ducky, but the latter made no comment, unlike the former.

"I can take care of myself, Gibbs." Tim tried to ignore the look that Gibbs gave him, wanting to roll his eyes just a bit, but knowing that there would be a head-slap as payment. "If you make me go into hiding then so will the suspect."

"Nope," Gibbs said simply.

"This man, Timothy," Ducky cut in, unable to hold himself any longer. "Is meticulous in everything that he does; his target: consisting of both genders, but ones that are young and have enrolled in the Navy, they're smart and are the underdogs. The way he kills is none structural, random, doing what can only be done in that one moment. He doesn't choose another target until he completes the job fully and completely, going through his ritual; first zeroing in on a target, stalking them, getting to know them, studying them. Then comes his final move; leaving his signature—to him, it's almost as if he's signing a piece of his art work."

"Duck!" Gibbs barked, startling the other man out of his trance.

"Oh, Dear!" Ducky said, ashamed as he looked at the now very pale Tim.

Tim didn't say anything, though he was angry at himself for letting what Ducky said get to him. He already knew all of this, hell, he had even helped compact some of what Ducky had said. The team had been investigating three murders by this guy before he laid eyes on Tim.

They had been at the third crime scene, Tim, Tony, Ziva and Gibbs—Gibbs having come to the realization that that was where the serial killer had laid his eyes on McGee, the killer having to have been at the scene. That was also where the first attack on him had been. When Tim went back to back to the truck to get the gear; the truck end being away from the crime scene; the back facing from the crowd.

He had bent in the back to retrieve his kit, and the first few times Tim didn't even notice it. It was a random of three, barely even felt through his NCIS breaker. Those three had hit him in the back; it was the fourth that had gotten his notice, seeing as it hit him in the back of the neck. It had stung, kind of like a bee sting, and that was why he didn't turn around and instead rubbed his neck. It was after that that he was at least pelted with a dozen of them. After it stopped, he waited a second before he turned around slowly, swearing to god that if DiNozzo was behind this, the Senior Agent was going to pay. But there was no one behind him, at least not that he could see.

Tim was about to call out Tony when something fell from his shoulder and onto the ground, he stared at it for a moment before he bent and picked it up. Squinting at the object for just a moment, before he realized what it was. In the beginning it used to be a round marble, but it was filed down, and now in the shape of a glass diamond; the edges were sharp and tinted with red—Tim belatedly realizing that it was his. He knew what these were, had seen them before; so far, all of the victims had had these in their possession—the team coming to the conclusion that they were the killers.

Tim paled at the possibilities that filled his mind at what this could mean.

He knew that there was no way that that could have been considered an attack, now that he had time to rethink on it. They didn't realize what it had really meant at first, maybe technically due to the fact that Tim hadn't told Gibbs in the beginning—he was still paying for that of course. The diamond carved marbles seemed to be one of the killers many signatures.

The second attack was a little more severe, had done way more damage than the first; it was also when they had learned that the killer liked to play.

Tim shook his head slightly; his head pounding from what he knew was a concussion, to find that Ducky was still trying to apologize.

"It's OK, Ducky." Tim assured the ME, waving him off. "We don't even know the guy's name, Gibbs." he got the topic back on track. "We don't have any eye witnesses; we have no idea what he looks like! If he goes into hiding, we'll never find him again."

"We always find them," Gibbs said.

"Eventually, yes." Tim agreed. "But I'm not willing to spend more time than I need to in Protective Custody, while you try and track a meticulous killer who had gone into hiding."

"It's been decided then," Gibbs said, not taking his gaze from Tim's. "You're going into Protective Custody, McGee, until my say so. No cell phones, no nothing; we don't want any leaks."

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

_**LATER THAT NIGHT**_

Charlie growled as he pushed the buttons on his cell harder, despite the fact that he knew the phone was dead—and, in his frustration, he may have given it the bird. That did nothing of course, and despite the fact that he was on the street, it was dark and there was no one around, still felt foolish.

He groaned in frustration as he sat down on a bus bench under a street lamp, shoving his now dead cell into his jacket pocket. Today had been a sucky one; after what had happened with him being a Navy Recruiter, he asked to be transferred, and now he was assigned at the Navy Shooting Range. It had been a total one-eighty from what he was used to, an obvious fact was that he actually hadn't a firearm in years due to his desk job, but now used one multiple times a day. He liked the change though, and fell in love with the routine of it.

But today, because some green-ass Cadet had screwed up with his firearm under Charlie's watch, Charlie had totally been written up. Not to say that the Cadet didn't get written up either, and Charlie knew that he deserved to get written up for his lack of attention—it was a unwanted result, one that would go on his record. His phone had died, obviously, and he had been kept after the Fire Range closed to catalogue all the weapons, that was the reason why it was dark out—don't forget the fact that he didn't own a car. He never needed one when he had lived on base, but he didn't anymore, but he was fine with walking or taking the bus.

The only thing that hadn't gone wrong was the fact that it wasn't raining—he cringed, looking up at the night sky and hoped that god wouldn't be that cruel. Thankfully, that fact was true and the sky stayed clear. He gave a sigh, he hadn't seen Tim for a while, but they did have a dinner planned tomorrow so that worked out just fine.

Charlie flinched as something came towards his face and made contact with his cheek before falling to the bench. He felt the sting as whatever it was cut through his skin, and the single drop of blood that welled from the cut. His hand went up to his cheek as he looked around him in confusion, but street was empty from what he could see with the limited light.

"What the hell?" he whispered as he looked beside him and saw something gleam in the lamp light. He picked it up, holding the small object between his thumb and index finger, looking at it in confusion; it looked like a glass marble that was filed down into a diamond shape. He looked around himself with more concentration; this was something that was thrown, not something that could have fallen from the sky or could have just come from nowhere—no, someone threw this at him intentionally.

He stood carefully from the bench; mostly keeping his eyes in the direction where the object had came from, and started to back away in the opposite direction. He had no idea what the hell this was, or what was happening, but knew that he had to get away from here, and he should probably call Tim. He was in the Navy, and if by chance he did get murdered tonight, he would what his brother on the case.

His phone was dead though, so he was going to have to find a payphone, if he lasted that long at least as he turned and fled.

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

_**10 HOURS IN PROTECTIVE CUSTODY**_

Tim sat up panicked and guilty as hell, he couldn't believe that he had actually forgotten.

Tony barely spared him a glanced; pissed that he was stuck with McGee until they caught the guy who was trying to kill him.

"Tony," Tim said, him demeanor anything but board like he had been just minutes ago. "Tony!"

"What, Probie? _What!_" Tony demanded, swiveling in the chair.

"Charlie!"

It took Tony a moment to realize what Tim was talking about, but when he did. . . "Oh, crap!" He snatched the burn phone from the table and flipped it open, dialing Gibbs' number quickly.

They used a burn phone to stall the killer from tracking their location, because they had no idea who he was, that also meant that they didn't what kind of connections he had, what kind of equipment he could get his hands on or even if he had connections at all.

Gibbs' picked up on the first ring. "_Yeah, DiNozzo, what is it?"_

Tony cringed inwardly; he was not confident about Gibbs' tone of voice. "Boss—" he started but Gibbs' cut him off, and Tony knew that it was because he just remembered the fact too.

_"I know,_" Gibbs' grunted and in the background Tony could hear the squeal of tires. _"I got him with me."_

"We really screwed this up, didn't we boss?" Tony asked unintentionally, thinking it but saying it out loud.

_"Keep your eye on McGee, DiNozzo, don't let him out of your sight_." Gibbs grunted out, ignoring his last question.

There was silence before Tony could hear the sequel of tires again, and a faint voice saying something along the lines of: **you done yet**? Before clicked off.

"So?" Tim demanded as Tony turned the phone off and set it back on the table.

"Gibbs' got him." Tony answered.

"Good," Time let out a breath of relief. "Are they coming here?"

"Don't know, Probie." Tony shrugged. "Sound like they were trying to break a tail."

"What? Are you telling me that the killer's already got them?"

"Nobody get's Gibbs without him letting them." Tony said. "Say, when's the last time you time you went to the bathroom, McGee?" he asked.

"Half an hours ago." Tim answered reluctantly, not at all liking the glint in Tony's eye.

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

_**2 HOUR PRIOR**_

They had nothing; since Gibbs had put McGee in Protective Custody, there had been nothing to further their investigation. He had just come up from Abby's lab, with nothing—(this killer was hands on, his DNA all over the victim, but that lead them nowhere because he wasn't in the system—not in the Navy, and not as a criminal)—entering the bullpen as McGee's desk phone started to ring.

He answered it, though wondering who would be calling McGee when he hadn't allowed the Agent to talk to anyone for about two days. Having the younger man stay at his house, and then finally deciding to put him into Protective Custody eight hours ago, and he made sure the Agent hadn't talked to anyone.

He picked up the phone and put it to his ear, but before he could say anything, a voice came through the line.

_"Tim_?" it was out of breath and slightly panicked, but Gibbs' could still recognize it.

"Charlie?" he said in slight confusion, then, "Charlie!" he realized.

_"Gibbs? What the hell? Why are you answering Tim's phone_?" Charlie demanded, there was silence for a second and all Gibbs' could hear was his breath before he spoke again. _"It doesn't matter, I was hoping to get Tim, but your ear will do_."

"Tell me where you are, Charlie." Gibbs said without premable.

". _. .You know, don't you?"_ Charlie demanded. _"I should have known,"_

"We can dicuss this later—"

_"Damn right we will, Gibbs!"_

"But for now, just tell me where you are so I can come and get you."

_"Fine!"_ he growled back. "_I'm in the park, the phone booth by the bathrooms at the south-east entrance."_

"I'll be there in fifteen." Gibbs said.

"_Make it quick, Gibbs,"_ Charlie ground out. "_We have alot to discuss."_

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

_**13 MINUTES LATER**_

"Took your sweet time," Charlie said, climbing into the passenger seat of the Charger.

Gibbs didn't say anything, and instead sped-off as Charlie tried to clip his seatbelt in.

"So tell me what kind of trouble you've gotten my brother into this time." Charlie drawled, his hand tightening on the door arm rest.

"It comes with the job."

"No, actually, it doesn't." Charlie said; he'd had time to think this through. "Getting shot, maybe, when going to apprehend a suspect; but be targeted with a guy that wants to play before he kills you, does not."

Gibbs looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "He was targeted, yes, at a crime scene three days ago."

"See." Charlie shook his head. "And you you've been keeping this from me, because. . .?"

"You weren't really at the front of my mind, Charlie, McGee was."

Charlie crossed his arms over his chest; he couldn't really be upset with that explanation—at all times he wanted Tim to be at the front of Gibbs' mind, so he'd give the older man that. "So this killer, you know him?"

"No." Gibbs said bluntly.

"Tim's safe, right?"

"He's with DiNozzo, in a safe house." Gibbs said, turning a corner.

"And where are we going?"

"NCIS."

"The killer too?"

Gibbs looked at him.

"Behind us." Charlie threw a thumb over his shoulder, "In the black Ford with its headlights turned off, it's been fallowing us for awhile now."

"And why haven't you mentioned this?" Gibbs asked, looking in the rearview mirror, but at the moment he wasn't speeding-up or showing any indication that he had noticed the car.

"I figured that you knew," Charlie said, an innocent expression on his face—though Gibbs knew that it was anything but. "The way that Tim talks about you, he makes it sounds as if you have super powers or something. Frankly, I don't see it."

"Is that so?" Gibbs said, taking a sharp right—and if Charlie didn't have on a seat belt, he would have been thrown into Gibbs' lap in the process.

"Yes," Charlie said, twisting around in his seat to find that the Ford had turned its headlights on and was speeding up, trying to match Gibbs sudden speed. "I guess I can understand that he may look-up to you as his boss, but for you to have superpowers?"

Gibbs was about to comment on that, a smirk fight to control his lips when his phone rang. The road that they were driving on the speed limit was only about 35, but Gibbs was going like almost ninety. That fact in itself caused Charlie to feel like he was on a rollercoaster, and had him clinging to the seatbelt and armrest, being flung everywhere when Gibbs seemed to turned every corner—and then, he takes one of his hands from the wheel, and digs the cell out of his pocket! Charlie understood that it could be very important, but was the man crazy?

"Are you out of your mind?" Charlie demanded, still clinging to the seatbelt, but let got of the armrest to snatch the phone from Gibbs' hand before he could flip it open. Gibbs didn't say anything, he didn't have to; the raised eyebrow and the look on his face would have made anyone else give the phone right back, but not Charlie. "You're driving, fast! And you are going to drive with two hands." he flipped the phone open and stuck it against Gibbs' ear before the man could say anything, holding it there. "Now pay attention," Charlie snapped when Gibbs kept looking at him.

Gibbs gave an internal sigh, turning his eyes back onto the road and putting both hands back on the wheel. He'd humor Charlie for now, the kid had been through alot lately and this just added to it—especially being the fact that there was a killer out there trying to kill his brother, and that same killer is going after him because he looked exactly like said brother was just messed up.

"Yeah, DiNozzo, what is it?" Gibbs finally spoke into the phone, sending a glance at Charlie from the corner of his eye.

_"Boss—_" Tony started, but Gibbs' cut him off because he already knew what his Senior Agent was going to say.

"I know," Gibbs grunted. "I got him with me."

_"We really screwed this up, didn't we boss_?" Tony spoke.

"Keep your eye on McGee, DiNozzo, don't let him out of your sight." Gibbs grunted out, instead of giving the obvious answer, because yes, they did screw up by over-looking Charlie McGee.

"You done?" Charlie asked when nothing further was said, and at Gibbs' not he took the phone back and snapped it shut, putting it in the cup-holder for good access if it decided to ring again. "Are we trying to loose him, or what?"

"Nope,"

"What? Then what are we doing?" Charlie asked in confusion, scratching at the cut on his cheek.

"McGee was right about the fact that it would be even harder to try and catch this guy when I put him into Protective Custody; it wasn't looking too good until you came into the picture." Gibbs said.

"I've always been in the picture, Gibbs." Charlie remark. "You just over looked me."

Gibbs looked at him for a long moment at the odd comment before he turned his eyes back to the road and put the peddle closer to the floor, turning another left at the same time. "You drew him back out, and now we have the opportunity to take him out."

"But you're circling back to the park." Charlie pointed out.

"Right," Gibbs agreed.

Charlie felt the big urge to slap Gibbs in the back of the head for not just getting to the friggin' point. "And the plan is?"

"He doesn't use guns; he likes to do things up close and personal."

"And you think that because you have a gun that you're going to win whatever it is that you're getting us into?" Charlie interrupted, surprised that Gibbs was actually still alive with that kind of confidence and ego.

"He doesn't kill any bystanders if they happen to be there when he makes the kill, he just puts them out of commission until he can finish what he started. We draw him out using you, and at the distraction I can take him out." Gibbs glanced at Charlie, the car behind them getting closer, right on their tail. "Your choice, Charlie. There won't be a worry about Tim getting caught in the crosshairs."

"How has Tim not noticed the fact that you're crazy?" Charlie asked, his face and tone of voice matching.

Though Charlie didn't answer the question, Gibbs knew that he would do anything to keep Tim out of this. Yes, he was using that need of Charlie's to protect what family he had left to catch the killer, but it had to be done; he'd feel guilty about it later if the need be. He turned the corner and stepped on the peddle, the car leaping a few feet into the air as he drove over the slight lip at the North-East gate, and into the confines of the park.

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

_**10 HOURS AND 20 MINUTES IN PROTECTIVE CUSTODY**_

"Is this really necessary?" Tim demanded, pointedly holding of the hand that was cuffed to the chair. That glint that he had seen in Tony's, had been real, because after that bathroom question, Tony had pulled out a pair of cuff's from their holster, shoved him into the chair that he had been sitting in minutes before.

"Very much necessary, McProbie." Tony answered through a mouth full of cold pizza.

"I know that Gibbs didn't tell you to cuff, Tony." Tim glared, putting his arm down.

"You're right," Tony agreed, lowering the pizza. "He told me not to let you out of my sight, and because it's family I knew that you might do something stupid like you did with your sister, instead of coming to the team like you should have."

Tim scowled at him. "I did what I thought I had to."

"And Gibbs was pissed because if it."

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

_**THE PARK, SIX MINUTES AFTER EXITING THE CHARGER**_

"Not every plan is fool proof," was all that Gibbs had said as looked up at Charlie from where he lay on the ground.

Gibbs blamed himself for what had happened; he had been way too confident in himself and in the facts about the killer—the truth of the fact though, was that he didn't have and know enough stats about the enemy. He had underestimated the man and that was how he had gotten to where he was now; lightly roughed up with a knife wound to his shoulder. He had underestimated the attention that the killer would pay him, he'd though that because he hadn't seen McGee in a while, that he would be over enthusiastic to see Charlie—his target's double.

But he had gone after Gibbs with energy; and now Gibbs realized that the killer actually wanted him dead because he was the one that was keeping Tim from him; so maybe he didn't really want Charlie, but was trying to use him to draw Tim out. This guy was very cunning and knew how to fight—but it his style wasn't that from the core.

Charlie held out a hand to Gibbs, and the older man grasped it, both grunting; Charlie from the weight of Gibbs and Gibbs from the pain. But he was up, and the looked around them, trying to see if the killer would go for a second try. They weren't as protected as they had been before, when Gibbs and the killer had gone hand to hand, he had somehow gotten Gibbs' weapon—he had said that the killer didn't use a gun, but that didn't mean he didn't know how.

"Do you still want to go through with this?" Charlie asked, having realized what Gibbs had, unconscious of the fact that he was holding Gibbs' upper arm lightly incase the Special Agent decided to tip over.

Gibbs didn't bother to tell him that he was doing it, and instead quickly went through their options: they could still try and track down the killer, though he did seem to have the advantage over them (plus, Gibbs didn't know what kind of skill sets that Charlie had), or, they could go back to the car and go back to NCIS to think of a better more realistic plan. Gibbs hadn't even known what really encouraged him to bring Charlie into this; ever fiber in him having been against this in the first place, plus he could probably get written up for it).

"We'll go back to the car," Gibbs answered quietly. "Figure out the next plan of action."

"Right," Charlie agreed, looking around them. "Which way's the car?" he asked, a wince crossing his pale face—Gibbs hadn't been the only one to be roughed-up (though not as badly), when he had intervened, trying to get the killer off of Gibbs.

"That way," Gibbs said, nodding his head to the left.

They started to walk that way, slowly and vigilantly, Charlie's hand still on Gibbs' arm—and maybe it wasn't entirely due to the fact that the other man was going to tip over, but because he may have felt a little safer with the contact—not that he was ever going to say that to Gibbs or anyone else, not even Tim. Gibbs didn't mention it either because of similar reasons; the possible fact that he may actually tip over, not having slept for awhile and now something like this), and it did make him aware of where Charlie was—and maybe the possible "not alone" factor.

Near the four entrances/exits in the park, there was a phone booth as well as a public men's and women bathroom; Gibbs had parked in behind the building, hiding the car from sight. They had gotten there, with no sign or peep from the killer—Gibbs didn't like that at all and his gut was proven right when they rounded the building.

"You sure you didn't get turned around, Gibbs?" Charlie cocked a brow at Gibbs, who just stared at him with steel eyes. "Fine, if you didn't get turned around, where's the car?" Gibbs didn't say anything, just continued to stare at Charlie. Charlie forced the roll of his eyes back and thought about it for a moment, giving into Gibbs. "Since he attacked you, we haven't seen him since, the car's missing so the killer must have moved it?"

Gibbs nodded. "He's better than I expected." he actually admitted it, and Charlie raise really surprised brows. Gibbs ignored it; he must really need some coffee. "This is not good," he said under his breath, and Charlie stared at him with wide eyes. Gibbs ignored the looked as he patted his person, not finding his cell. "You got your cell on you?" he asked, Charlie having put it in the cup holder and the car was now gone, so that meant that his cell was too.

"What?" Charlie tore his gaze away from a gap in the trees, and shock his head. "If you didn't notice, I called from a payphone."

Gibbs just raised a brow at the tone. "Then we'll use the payphone around front." he countered.

"Wouldn't that expose us?"

"What other choice do we have?" Charlie's silence was all the answer he needed. "You stay in the shadows, while I call Ziva for back-up."

"He's obviously waiting for us." Charlie gritted out. "So I can give him something to look at while you make the call." he reasoned.

"Not happening." Gibbs said simply, his tone of voice stating that that was that.

But Charlie shook his head. "And that's not happening."

Charlie had kept his hand on Gibbs' arm, but turned so that they were facing each other. Jade green met that of blue-grey, neither owner of the two sets blinked or shifted. It felt like minutes, but only seconds had passed as the two men tried to stare the other down; but they were evenly matched—Gibbs was actually surprised by this because he had never met anyone who could meet his own intensity, and surprising even more was the fact that it was McGee's twin.

"We're never going to get anything done like this!" Gibbs growled out so suddenly that Charlie blinked. "Right now you're a civilian and I'm a Federal Agent, so you are going to fallow my orders."

Charlie growled back, "Fine!" knowing that right now Gibbs was right as much as he wanted him to be wrong; this was Gibbs' job, but that didn't mean that he had to like it an inch. And after a second, he removed his hand from Gibbs' arm to show that he was relenting—but no one won that because they kept getting stuck with a stale mate.

"Now, your are going to stay here out of sight while I phone Ziva." Gibbs said, his hand stuffed in his jacket pocket, his finger picking at the grip on his knife; luckily, he hadn't lost that too with his encounter with the killer. He put his hand against Charlie's chest and pushed his flat against the back brick wall of the bathroom, officially concealing him in the shadows since there wasn't any lighting behind the bathrooms. He kept his hand there for a moment, making sure that Charlie was going to stay put before he took it away, looking Charlie in the eye for a long moment before he dispeared around the corner.

Gibbs knew that this was dangerous, but they didn't have any other choice becuase he knew that they was no way that they'd be able to wait him out, not until daylight. He tried to stick to the shadows as much as possible, but had to rush through spots of lights from the posts. He knew that he was going to have to be quick, he'd be exposed the most when he was on the phone, its stand being directly under one of the lamp posts.

He took a deep breath as he carefully scanned the area for the killer, before he ran from the cover of the shadows to the payphone that he seeked. He quickly slipped in two quarters into the slot as he picked up the receiver and put it against his ear, dialing Ziva's cell. She picked up on the first ring and he spoke quickly into the mouth piece before she could.

"Ziva, Washington Park at the North-East entrance."

The was all Gibbs was able to get out before shots were fired, two; their echoes bouncing off each other as they rang throughout the empty park. The receiver dropped from his hand as he knees buckled underneath him, causing him to crash to the pavement. Blood soaked into the material of his clothes from the wound in his leg and his shoulder.

Apparently the killer did know how to use a gun as well, the only good thing that that he didn't take a kill-shot so that meant that he was still sticking to his signature—which was good on Gibbs' part. But the result of him shooting Gibbs brought him to his goal, because Charlie came running from the safety of the shadows and to Gibbs' side—leaving them both exposed.

"I told you to stay behind the building," Gibbs ground out as Charlie crouched next to him, putting pressure on the leg wound as Gibbs tried to put pressure on his shoulder wound.

"And I told you that this was a bad idea," Charlie countered.

_"You should have listened to the Special Agent_," came a voice from behind Charlie and before either Gibbs or him could react, Charlie's collar was grasped and he was yanked back. In that same motion, the killer kicked Gibbs under the chin, leaving him down for the count and bleeding out.

Charlie was tossed onto his back, and before he could fully realize what had just happened, the killer had him effectively pinned down. Charlie stared up at the killer, though his face was shrouded in shadow, making him look even more feral as he wrapped his hands around Charlie's neck and slowly started to close them. Charlie struggled underneath him, but it was no use, his elbows had him thoroughly pinned to the ground, his legs preventing Charlie from kicking out.

The pressure increased; breath not able to enter his throat; his windpipe closed off, his lungs unable to expand. The killer's face was close to his, so close that all Charlie could see was the gleam of his teeth and the look in his dark eyes.

Charlie couldn't believe that he was going to go out this way; not the dying part, but the fact that it was by the guy that had to go through him in order to get to his brother. He hadn't talked to Tim in about five days, five days. Charlie couldn't believe it, he was never going to see his brother again. He was Tim's reflection; looking exactly like him, but the complete opposite and it wasn't the same. There was no way that Ziva would get here in time, and Gibbs had been shot—twice.

Tears entered Charlie's eyes as darkness crept into the edges of the vision—and there was no way that he was crying because of Gibbs, no way in hell. The man always put his brother in danger, had always just irked Charlie; and he had no idea why. Just being around made him want to growl and grind his teeth to dust, to wish that he could shoot lasers from his eyes so every time he looked at Gibbs the man would become dust, or he could at least burn hole in his clothes.

As the last of his breath left him, he heard the man above him laugh, a single tear running from the corner of his eye before they closed at last.

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

_**2 MINUTES BEFORE**_

Gibbs had his knife out, ready to throw it at the killer who was strangling Charlie; he wasn't able to move from the gun shot wounds, and if he threw it right, he could make it stick like a pig. The killer was laughing, actually laughing as he slowly took the life from Charlie. Charlie was struggling of course, but the killer had him thoroughly pinned and Charlie had no leeway. It was almost like watching McGee get killed in front of him, him helpless to do anything—but at the same time it wasn't because when he looked at Charlie now (and he didn't know when) he didn't see McGee's twin, but instead as a individual person with his own looks.

Charlie's struggles were slowing to and had now come to a stop; Gibbs pulling his arm back ready to throw when another two gun shots echoed through the air and impacted. The killer slumped forward over the still Charlie, dead.

"Gibbs!" Ziva called, rushing to the older man, and kneeling beside. "Are you alright?" she asked, noticing all the blood. "You been shot."

"Give me your cell, Ziva." he said and she quickly handed it to him. "I'll survive. Check on Charlie, I don't think he's breathing." he gritted out to the Mosade Agent as he dialed for an ambulance.

Ziva gave a quick nod and rushed over to where the killer lie on Charlie, she shoved the guy off, his blood all over the front of Charlie. She knelt beside him, checking for a pulse.

"He's not breathing, Gibbs." she called.

"Ambulance is on its way." he called back.

"That'll take too long." so she started CPR; tilting his he head back to open his airway and plugged his nose, breathing a breath into his mouth. His chest rose for a second as her breath filled his lungs before they deflated again. She quickly overlapped her hands and placed them in the center of his chest at the nipple line, and started to pump. She blew another breath again, and pumped her hands; trying to get his heart to started again. She was failing though, he wasn't breathing, his heart wasn't starting but she continued—this was McGee's brother, and from what she had observed, Gibbs' friend. She tried one last time, knowing that if this didn't bring him back, then it was too late. She was about to breathe another breath into his lungs, her mouth inches from his when he took a breath. She paused for a moment, staring at his chest as it rose again before checking his pulse.

It was there, and Ziva gave a breath of relief; sure that his windpipe had been crushed. "He's breathing, Gibbs." she called and her heart skipped a beat when silence answered her. "Gibbs!" she turned, ready to rush to the boss and administer CPR again; she could finally hear the ambulance.

"I'm fine, Ziva." Gibbs finally spoke, trying to mask the pain but Ziva could hear it clearly in his voice.

"The ambulance is here," she told him, seeing it pull through the entrance, relief in her eyes.

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

_**BACK IN PROTECTIVE CUSTODY**_

"Who was that?" Tim asked as Tony hung of the phone; he had long gotten passed the fact that Tony had cuffed him to the chair.

"Ziva," Tony said, slipping the cell into his pocket and getting the handcuff keys as he walked over to Tim.

"You're letting me go?"

"Yep,"

"Why?" he asked, feeling unkind dread filling his stomach as he was released from the metal rings.

"The killer's dead." Tony explained, slipping his arms into his coat.

Tim didn't feel relief at that though; Tony was holding back, his whole demeanor said so. "What aren't you telling me, Tony?"

"What are you talking about, Probie? I'm trying but you keep asking questions."

"Fine, I'm listening." Tim said, he stood from the chair, his butt asleep but he ignored it, taking his coat as Tony handed it to him.

"Good." Tony nodded, but his expression was still tight. "Gibbs and Charlie are at Bethesda."

That was all that Tim needed or wanted to hear, that was all he needed to get going.

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

_**BATHESDA HOSPITAL**_

Tim burst through the hospital doors and bypassed Ziva in the waiting room and went straight for the reception desk.

Tony fallowed close behind, but stopped next to Ziva.

"How's Gibbs?" Tony asked, his hands clenched in his pockets.

"He is in surgery; he was still awake when they took him in." Ziva said, her arms crossed over her chest. "He was shot twice, and had a knife wound on his shoulder."

Tony nodded. "What about McGee's brother."

"He was dead," she stated.

And Tony looked at her with wide eyes. "You didn't say that on the phone!"

"I revived him and he's getting an MRI/CAT SCAN now."

"Oh," he let out a breath, knowing that he should have let her finish in the first place. "How'd you get all that information? The only people who can get that are family."

"I can be very positive." she stated in a superior tone.

Tony looked at her for a moment. "Don't you mean 'persuasive'?"

"That too." she nodded.

Despite the situation, Tony couldn't help the tweak of his lips.

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[] —**

_**SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE HOSPITAL**_

The first thing that Tim did when he saw Charlie was run to him and wrapped him in a tight hug. Charlie hugged him back tightly, both brother happy that the other was still alive. They held each other for a moment longer before they pulled apart, but they didn't go too far, both keeping in contact with the other.

Charlie was in a hospital gown, having just come back from his brain scan. He had a single scratch on his cheek, but that wasn't what drew Tim's eyes. Charlie neck, his whole neck, was red and swollen and covered in bruises, bruises that were in the shape of the hands that had wrapped around his brother's throat. Tim couldn't take his eyes away, and found his good hand coming up, his fingers out-stretched. He didn't touch Charlie, but the bruised skin below his fingers trembled.

Tim took his hand away and squeezed it into a fist as he looked at him brother; his face a puddle of concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Charlie rasped out, his throat mega-sore and he tried not to move his head. "You?" he asked, noticing the cut on Tim's forehead, the scrapes on his face, the black eye, had noticed the way he held his shoulder and the slight limp when he walked.

"I'm fine," Tim smiled gently back at him.

Again, they stared at each other for a long moment, before finally moving away from each other. Charlie climbed back in his bed, and threw the blankets over; feeling a breeze.

Tim sat on the edge.

"Are you sure?" Tim asked again, not really liking the look of his neck.

"Yes," Charlie reassured him. "Mostly thanks to Gibbs and Agent David."

Tim nodded. "They tend to make that happen." he said in agreement, remembering that fact that it was those two had saved him in the second attack.

"There's nothing to worry about anymore, Tim. Don't worry."

"I'm trying not to."

"They're gone let me out of here tomorrow; we have to wait for the scans to come back to see if there was any brain damage."

Tim furrowed his brows at that. "Why would there be brain damage?"

"Oh," Charlie averted his eyes.

Tim narrowed his in turn. "Why would there be brain damage, Charlie?" he ground out.

"Agent David said I had died for at least 2 minutes in park." Charlie said slowly with hesitance, biting his bottom lip.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Tim demanded.

"I didn't want to worry you for nothing," Charlie told him, "I'm alive now, what happened in the park doesn't matter now."

Tim was silent for a long moment, his eyes intent on Charlie's as he thought about what his brother said. "Hmm, fine—but I'm not going to forget this."

"Neither am I." Charlie whispered.

**[]N[]C[]I[]S[]**

_**THE NEXT MORNING, BETHESDA HOSPITAL, AGENT GIBBS' ROOM**_

"You took your sweet time,"

Gibbs squinted at the ceiling for a second, hearing the repeated words, he turned his head to look at Charlie.

"Shouldn't you be resting, McGee." he said, making it a fact.

"I could say the same thing,"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

Charlie smirked at him a little, his neck still stiff and his throat and voice rough. "I don't know, tell me." he smiled, his elbow on his knee, his chin resting on his hand.

Gibbs stared at him, and stared at him, and stared at him. And Charlie just had that smirk on his lips as he stared back, unblinking. Gibbs had no idea how long that went on for, or why the hell Charlie was acting the way he was—chipper, a word that Gibbs was shocked to find in his vocabulary.

"What do you want, Charlie?" Gibbs finally spoke.

Charlie sat back up and shrugged his shoulder, wincing at the action. "No reason just thought that it was something to do while Tim filled out my discharge papers."

Gibbs watched him, his gaze split between Charlie's face and his badly bruised neck.

"Any way," Charlie said when Gibbs didn't speak, biting the inside of his cheek. "Shot twice?"

Gibbs still said nothing.

"Fine," Charlie relented, giving in to Gibbs just this once. "Didn't know it was such a big crime to see if the person who may have or may not have gotten the other killed." he said in a sarcastic tone.

"I told you to stay put," Gibbs pointed out.

"Right," Charlie agreed. "So I was just supposed to stay there while you bled out?"

"Yeah,"

"If I had, the guy never would have come out."

"He would have,"

"Right, because he wanted to kill you that bad that he would expose himself to a possible trap?"

"I kept him from what he most wanted in that moment, so yes, he would have come out and finished the job."

"And you're okay with that?" Charlie demanded. "If I didn't go out there, then you would have been long since dead, too dead for Ziva to do anything when she had gotten there."

"It would have been better than the alternative." Gibbs said blandly.

"What? You mean, you getting shot and being down for the count while the killer slowly drained the life from me until I finally died, and then Ziva resuscitated me? The one that really happened and had us both survive and the killer die, that one?" Charlie took a breath, just then realizing that he had leapt from his seat. He glanced away from Gibbs for a second, smoothing his hands down the front of his shirt; Tim having brought him a tee and pair of jeans this morning.

"You really believe that I'd give up that easily?" Gibbs asked.

"You're human, Gibbs, contrary to what others seem to believe." Charlie told him. "We've not know each other long, but if you haven't realized this yet—people die from gun shot wounds!" his voice broke painfully at the end, and he gently rubbed his throat; his vocal cords still very tender.

Gibbs looked at him. "Don't work yourself up for nothing, Charlie." he told him.

Charlie looked at him aghast. "Explain to me, please, how something like this is nothing?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay normal.

"Things happen in the field all the time," Gibbs told him. "And something's are unavoidable for the desired outcome."

"You mean just to take down the killer?"

"Yes,"

This time Charlie was one to stare at Gibbs without saying anything, just staring. Gibbs looked back of course; never able to turn down a challenge even in the current situation—Charlie seemed to be the best he had met so far.

"I'm not so easily taken by words, Gibbs, or silent challenges." he gave Gibbs a pointed look before he turned and left his room, disappearing around the corner.

Gibbs stared at the spot where Charlie had been moments before, unable to resist the smirk that came across his lips. He didn't know that the hell it was, but Charlie McGee gotten underneath his nails, and it didn't look like he was going away any time soon. He shook his head, the smirk getting even wider he thought that it might split his cheeks—good thing he was already in a hospital, because the days to fallow were going to be very interesting.

_f_


End file.
